


How to Fly

by nebslem



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Hybrids, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebslem/pseuds/nebslem
Summary: Dream was his king, the soldiers, and the minotaur. He was the waves crashing against the mountain, he was Helios melting the wax. Dream was his king but his wings weren’t made of wax.Tommy wants to fly
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has references to Greek mythology.  
> Icarus was the son of Daedalus, an intelligent inventor. King Minos got word of Daedalus and trapped him along with Icarus in a cave to use the duo for their inventions. Their only means of the outside world was a hole peeking out the mountainside that is high above sea level. The exit was protected by soldiers and a minotaur (that is trapped in a labyrinth Daedalus created). Daedalus doesn't mind his imprisonment, but Icarus is suffering. He's just a kid withering away in a hole, so to give him the freedom he yearns for, Daedalus creates wings made of feathers and wax for his son. They both escape, however, Icarus flew too close to the sun despite his father's warnings. The wax on his wings melted off causing him to plummet into the ocean below and die as Daedalus is overcome with grief.

Tommy always saw himself as Icarus, the story about the son whose wings were stolen from him. The story about the imprisoned child who spent years yearning for something he will never get, dreaming of freedom. 

Dream was his king, the soldiers, and the minotaur. He was the waves crashing against the mountain, he was Helios melting the wax. Dream was his king but his wings weren’t made of wax. 

But unlike the story, Tommy likes his king. Dream takes care of him, nurtures him, helps him with his homework. He makes sure Tommy is fed and he doesn’t expect anything out of Tommy. He doesn’t expect inventions and creative ideas, he doesn’t care. All Dream wants from Tommy are good grades and a good attitude.  
He just wants Tommy to be happy. 

And if that meant burning his wings Tommy wouldn’t mind. 

Drawing Icarus is easy when you have your own wings to use as a reference. Which is how Tommy finished his artwork crafting a kid around his age- looking eerily like Tommy- with small broken wings. Seeing his wings on paper was a little disappointing, maybe it was from the lack of attention they got. Having a human guardian comes with a lot of things, neglect for his wings was one of them. 

Neither Tommy nor Dream knew how to take care of wings, and it was better this way. Wings were looked down on, all humans hated the animalistic traits of hybrids. Maybe they were just envious, Tommy could fly like a bird and touch the sun without melting his wings. 

Whatever the reason, Tommy didn’t know. All he knew was that wings were bad and his drawing was ugly. He kept looking over the paper, erasing the graphite over and over again. There was something wrong with it. His eyes scanned for the abnormality, what was it that was making it look so ugly? Maybe it was the- yes. Erasing that part of the drawing made it look so much more presentable, more elegant. 

He left the drawing on the table, not missing the way Dream smiled as he stared at Icarus’ missing wings.


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy limped into the local bakery, drool escaping the corners of his mouth as he thought about a blueberry muffin. 

It had been a while since he had a treat, and after the king’s outburst the other night, Dream felt the need to apologize by offering Tommy money for a pastry. Dream was kind, the king wasn’t. When they first moved here a month ago Tommy had been pestering Dream about permission to have some baked goods from the bakery. Sure it probably wasn’t a good idea to bitch to the king about a want, a desire, but it was worth the bruises if Dream remembered the information and gave him the directions, along with cash. 

He slowly pushed the door open, hearing a little chime echo through the quiet bakery. Only about three humans were scattered across the dining chairs in small chatting. One working on their computers sipping a cup of coffee while the other two conversed amongst each other.

It was full of life. The energy in the little bakery radiated the feeling of happiness and safe. Even around Dream, Tommy hadn’t felt safe in a long time. His wings twitched underneath his coat and the feeling of safety precipitated into the air. 

Then he remembered, as long as Tommy had the pieces of flesh on his back he would never be safe. 

“Hello, welcome in,” a sweet voice was heard. Tommy raised his head to meet a man old enough to be his father. He had short blonde hair and was dressed in a green robe. Alongside him was a taller man, wavy hair tucked underneath a red beanie with a guitar strapped on his back. They would look like father and son if it weren't for the very obvious physical differences between the two. 

“Hey big man,” Tommy said, walking up to the counter. If the men were able to see his wings they would have doubted his charisma and seen his anxiety, “mind getting me a blueberry muffin?”

The older smiled, “Is that all?”

“Yes sir,” Tommy giggled with a fake salute. He pulled Dream’s cash from his pockets, handing the man two dollars and thirty cents. And handed it to the man who gracefully accepted, receiving a quarter change. He made sure to return it to Dream once he got home. 

And as quickly as he ordered it, the tall, curly-haired guy came over holding a sandwich and a muffin. 

“Got you a sandwich, don’t worry it’s on the house. I made an extra and my brother didn’t want it.” Tommy uttered a quick thank you only for the man to guide him to one of the chairs for a conversation. Tommy knew he shouldn’t, Dream was waiting for him back home and would probably get mad at him if he were late, but on the other hand, the man had a guitar. Dream didn’t have a guitar.

So he sat down, eating his sandwich- he can’t remember the last time he had a good one- and enjoyed the company of the weird man. 

“My name’s Wilbur, what’s yours?”

“Tommy,” He said, mouth full, “can you play the guitar?”

“Yeah man, you want me to play it?”

Tommy uttered a quick, “Yes please” with crumbs escaping his mouth, this was probably the best sandwich he’s ever had.

Before he knew it the sounds of a guitar drowned out the chatter of the humans in the store, all stopping to listen to the soothing sounds erupting from the piece of wood and strings. Tommy watched a smile grow on Wilbur’s lips almost as if he could feel the happiness aura the sweet sounds of the guitar brought. And soon, that smile muffled the sounds of humming in a tune Tommy didn’t recognize. It’s not unsurprising he didn’t recognize it, Dream was a little controlling when it came to music. 

Tommy was entranced in the beauty of the instrument, feeling every soundwave of a beat. He couldn't help but let his shoulders drop, his pain in his side slowly fading away. He had never felt so safe before. Even his wings had stopped twitching, which was a rare occurrence.

Eventually, the strings stopped vibrating as Wilbur’s melody had concluded. Wilbur was still smiling, he looked so calm, so grateful. Tommy would never be able to guess what made Wilbur look as grateful as he did. Tommy’s eyes lit up at the man in front of him, at the man who managed to make an inanimate object sing better than he could ever. 

“That was awe-”

“God Wilbur stop showing off your guitar we get it you like sounds, some of us are trying to do work!”

“Shut up Techno mind your business”

“I’m trying to but your music is so anno-”

“Boys that’s enough!” A large voice boomed, causing Tommy to flinch. The voice wasn’t angry nor disappointed, but he could feel phantom pain run down his wings causing them to shudder behind his coat. He tried to ignore Wilbur’s concerned glance from his peripheral vision, he can’t let anyone know about his wings. He knows how much Dream hates his wings, he can’t imagine what other people would do if they found out.  
He forces them into his back, and maybe if he pushed them back hard enough they would disappear. 

The humans ignored the trio as if this were part of their daily routine. No one had even bat an eye at the yelling. 

“Who’s the kid?” The guy, presumably Techno, asked, walking over to where the duo sat ignoring the fact that he just got yelled at. If those words were directed at Tommy, he'd probably start sobbing on the spot. 

The guy was average height, for an adult male, with long, pink hair. And despite the pink hair, he looked intimidating. Scarier than Dream in a way. The last thing Tommy wants is for someone like him to find out he’s a hybrid. 

“Fuck you bitch I’m not a kid! I’ll have you know I am a huge man, just an absolutely giant man with testosterone flowing through me veins and shit!” Tommy exclaimed, failing to ignore the urge to assert his dominance. He grinned, throwing his hands up in fists, punching the air.

“Alright kid,” Did- did he just not listen to Tommy’s whole tangent? “My name’s Techno, Wilbur’s brother-”

“We’re twins!” Tommy looked from Techno to Wilbur, flicking his eyes between the two men that were in front of him. They had no similarities between them, maybe it was the hair throwing him. 

“You guys don’t look it”

“Yeah, it’s called not being identical,” 

“Yeah no shit,” Tommy is a minor but he’s not stupid, “I’m Tommy. Big man, tall, muscular, extr-extrav-extravengent (?) Just an overall great, huge, important man-” 

“You mean extravagant?”

“I’m not accepting constructive criticism from a bitch with pink hair. Why’d you dye it pink in the first place? It looks like shit.” It looks cool. Tommy would definitely dye at least a bit of his hair if Dream would ever allow it. 

“That’s a rude thing to say, especially since this is my natural hair.”

“What bitch has naturally pink hair?”

Tommy found himself walking home with a stuffed stomach and a smile on his face. He’s definitely going to come back there tomorrow. 

He really enjoyed their company, Wilbur was bright and outgoing while Techno was laid-back but confident. Tommy even found the presence of the old man nice as he did nothing but smile whenever Tommy looked his way, except for the time he yelled of course. But even so, when the old man yelled it was nothing like when Dream yelled. Even when angry, the old man didn’t seem like he’d ever hurt Wilbur or Techno. A pang of jealousy spread through him, they were so cool, so confident and happy. So at peace, while Tommy was just a kid with broken wings. 

He felt his heart drop when he looked at his watch. He was an hour late, he was meant to be home at six and it was almost seven. 

He broke out on a full sprint heading home as fast as he could, ignoring the glares of the on-lookers he passed. And in that moment he completely forgot about the pain in his side, the adrenaline replacing the ping of bruises. 

The run back home wasn’t too long, a fifteen-minute sprint, yet Tommy felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. The uncomfortable feeling his wings gave off wasn’t helping either. He slowly opened the doors, peering his head inside to see how safe entering his humble abode would be. He didn’t know why he was being cautious, Dream was going to find out he came late eventually, but the action did help soothe his anxiety. 

Walking in, he slowly closed the door behind him and took off his shoes, hands slightly shaking. He kept his movements slow and his brain on high alert, making sure his footsteps were nearly-silent. It took about ten minutes of creeping around for Tommy to realize that Dream wasn’t home. He would sometimes leave the house without warning, it appeared now is one of those times. Tommy should count himself lucky, it’s not everyday he gets to miss Dream’s wrath. However, being home-alone had always been unsettling. He misses Dream’s voice when the house is eerily quiet. 

An hour later, Tommy’s ears twitch to the sound of a door opening. His hands freeze, gripping the graphite pencil for dear life. He knew how angry Dream is going to be, he broke the rules, he broke his trust. 

“Tommy,” He hears, a mellow voice spiked with anger.

“D-Dream. I- uh, I’m so sorry for being late I lost track of time and-” 

“I don’t care why you’re late, only that you are late. You can’t even greet me with a smile? Unbelievable.” He scoffed, the disappointment in his tone hurt more than any slap. 

Tommy’s hands fumbled around his pockets, searching for the quarter change. Smiling as he felt the cool metal touch his pads, he grasped it and swiped it out to hand to Dream, who gracefully took it. 

“Thank you for returning the change, Tommy. It makes me happy to know you remembered to give me my change back. Even if it is a quarter. But you know, this doesn’t make me any less upset. You did disappoint, you might’ve remembered to bring back the money but that doesn’t mean you didn’t break the rules, Tommy. I have the rules set to keep you safe, you know that. Right?”

“I-I know”

“I care about you,”

“I know”

“I want you to be safe,” He assured him, his footsteps coming closer and closer to where Tommy stood. 

“I know”

“Sit” Tommy immediately obliged without hesitation. He knows how much Dream hates it when he questions his authority. He learned it the hard way. His fear of Dream didn’t stop his legs from aching as he sat on his feet.

“Since you think you could just ignore my warnings since you think you could just fly away,” He started, ripping Tommy’s coat off of his figure, exposing his wings. They were already neglected, dirty with feathers sticking up everywhere. There were a few bald patches too, Tommy could still feel Dream's hands from the last time he raked his fingers over his wings. But no matter how many times this has happened before, Tommy is never prepared for the pain that follows. He still finds himself wishing for death rather than pain despite Dream’s constant punishment. 

He felt a hand grip his hair as his head was pushed down, bruising his face. He could feel the splinters from the floor pierce through his skin, bits of wood seeping into his mouth. The smell of pine overcame his sense and for a moment he forgot about the man on his back gripping his hair. He could see a few dust bunnies roaming the wooden floor, flying away with every breath Tommy took. How ironic, they don’t even have wings yet they could fly further than Tommy.

He felt Dream’s other hand at the base of his wings, skimming across his feathers as they puffed up to the foreign touch. 

“Since you think you could just fly away,” He repeated, “I need to make sure you don’t.” And with that Dream plucked one of his feathers as he muffled a cry.  
Even though he couldn’t see, he was sure Dream was suppressing a smile as blood oozed out of the wound. It felt like someone was plucking his fingernail. Blood rushed to his head as Tommy lost the ability to see for just a second. And soon, Dream grasped another, and another, and another. And with the fifth feather, Tommy failed to keep his cries hidden erupting in full sobs. He felt himself losing connections to his senses, his hearing being overwritten by the pain in his wings, his vision fading, it was terrifying. The pain was too much, his wings flinched with every touch that lingered on them, desperate to keep themselves safe. 

And it worked, he could no longer feel hands on his wings. The pressure on his back was gone, and he could only assume Dream was standing up beside him, possibly staring in disappointment.

“You can’t even sit still for a punishment you deserve? Have I taught you nothing?” And before he could process those words, there was a quick kick to his stomach. Bile rose up in Tommy’s throat as he suppressed the need to vomit all over the floor. He would probably get into more trouble than he already was. 

Tommy was hunched over himself, grasping his stomach in pain while tears of crimson leaked from his wings staining the floor, his own tears seeping through his eyes. He lost his sense of breathing, and all he could feel was the soreness of his wings and the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, every breath he took was cut off from the pain of Dream’s discipline. And soon, black dots floated in his vision as the lack of oxygen reached his brain. The pain in Tommy’s body faded, and if he had known not breathing would result in this euphoria he’d have done this sooner. 

Before he knew it, he was in Dream’s arms while the hand was back in his hair, but to comfort him. Tommy looked up to the man who hurt him, who violated him, yet he could do nothing other than shoving his head into Dream’s shoulder grasping at the comfort he provided. He was hurt, and Dream was here for him, to make sure he was safe, to make sure he heals. This was all to keep him safe.  
“I’m sorry I went as far as It’s okay Tommy, I’m right here, I’m right here,” And it was true. Dream would always be here for him. What Dream did barely hurt, and it was Tommy’s fault in the first place. If he hadn’t broken the rules, if he wasn’t such a disappointment he wouldn’t be in so much pain right now. He clutched Dream’s coat, seeping into his warmth. 

His eyes lingered to the fallen sketch, as they struggled to stay open, the pain in his side long forgotten. He smiled and his wings twitched looking at Apollo strumming his guitar and Ares battling Helios, Icarus smiling behind the duo, hovering in the air with his wings spread out behind him.  
He held Dream close, but his wings closer.


End file.
